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DO RE MI

♧

BLACKBEAR

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CELINE AND I hadn't exchanged a single word in two days. The only evidence of her existence was the grocery bill that landed on my desk this morning—an obscene amount for one person. Glutton. Though, to be fair, she did have the ass to justify it. Not that I was thinking about that.

This arrangement was already grating on my nerves. I'd faced prison cells, taken bullets, and dealt with men twice my size begging for mercy—but somehow, she was proving to be the real test of my patience.

The clock read 9:45 PM, and the warehouse reeked of stale beer and desperation. I stood near the edge of the dimly lit office overlooking the floor below, where four men sat tied to chairs, bleeding and trembling like rats in a flood. A cigarette burned between my fingers, the smoke curling lazily as I watched them squirm.

"Antonio," Alessandro called from behind me, stepping into the room. "They've started talking. You want to hear it yourself or should I keep working them over?"

"Working them over? Cristo, Alessandro, they look like you've been using them as your personal punching bags." I blew out a thin stream of smoke and turned to face him. "Which one of them broke first?"

"The skinny one." Alessandro smirked. "Cried like a baby as soon as I pulled out the pliers."

"Of course he did." I stubbed out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray and walked toward the door, adjusting the cuffs of my black shirt. "Let's go hear what he has to say."

Downstairs, the air was colder, carrying the sharp scent of blood and oil. The man Alessandro had mentioned was shivering, a mix of snot and tears running down his face. He flinched when he saw me, his eyes darting nervously between me and the other men.

"Please," he whimpered. "I already told him everything! I swear, I don't know anything else!"

I tilted my head, crouching down to his level. "I find that hard to believe," I said calmly. "You see, the problem with rats like you is that you squeak too much when no one's asked you to. It makes me wonder if what you're saying is real—or if it's just noise to save your own skin."

"I—I swear—"

I held up a hand, silencing him. "Let's make this simple. Who do you work for?"

"Vargas!" he blurted out. "It's Vargas!"

The man sniffled loudly, his blood-smeared face trembling as he tried to meet my eyes.

"Vargas," he repeated, barely able to form the name. "Ricardo Vargas sent us. He said it was just a small job, something no one would notice!"

"Vargas," I echoed, my voice cold. The name hung in the air like a bad stench. Of course it was Vargas. The rat who sold out anyone and everyone for the right price. The man who spent more time shaking hands with cops than his own crew.

The man sobbed. "We didn't know it was your shipment! Vargas didn't tell us it belonged to you!"

"You're lying," I said flatly. "Vargas knows exactly whose shipments cross the docks in this city. He wanted a reaction, and you were stupid enough to take the bait."

"Please, I swear, we didn't mean to—"

"Save your breath," I cut him off. "You're about to meet a fate worse than betrayal. Vargas can't save you now."

I turned to Alessandro. "Find out what else they know about Vargas. Where he's been hiding, who he's paying off. I want everything."

Alessandro grinned. "With pleasure."

The man screamed as Alessandro stepped forward with a wrench, but I was already heading back upstairs. I had bigger problems to deal with than Vargas' sloppy little thieves.

The man's screams followed me as I climbed the staircase, fading into a muffled whimper once the basement door shut behind me. I adjusted my cufflinks and straightened my tie, annoyed that the interrogation had eaten into my schedule. Vargas was becoming a larger nuisance than I'd anticipated.

Ricardo Vargas wasn't just a rat; he was a cockroach. Too clever to squash outright, too bold to stay in the shadows. He played both sides of the game—feeding law enforcement crumbs while quietly expanding his empire. Worse, his arrogance was growing. Stealing my shipment wasn't just a mistake; it was a declaration.

I paused in the hallway, leaning against the polished railing as I considered my next move. A hit on Vargas would have to be loud enough to send a message but clean enough to keep his federal friends out of my business.

"Antonio," Emilio's voice interrupted my thoughts. He appeared at the top of the stairs, hands in his pockets, a grim expression on his face.

"Tell me you've got good news," I said, but the look on his face told me otherwise.

"Vargas isn't just running his mouth. He's trying to stir something bigger. We've got word he's been cozying up to a few of the smaller families in the south. Rumor is, he's promising them protection... if they cut ties with us."

I let out a slow breath, my jaw tightening. Vargas was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. Picking off smaller families wasn't just about growing his territory; it was about isolating me.

"Find out who he's been meeting with," I said, my tone sharp. "And remind those families exactly who keeps their streets clean. If they think Vargas can offer them more than we can, they're welcome to test that theory."

Emilio smirked. "You want me to make it messy?"

"Do whatever gets the message across. Just don't leave a trail back to me."

Emilio gave me a curt nod and disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Vargas wanted to play games, and he was getting too bold. I had half a mind to deal with him myself, but I knew better. This wasn't just about power or territory; this was about perception. I couldn't risk looking desperate or impulsive.

I loosened my tie and glanced at my watch. Midnight. I was already running late. Time to go home and deal with the other mess waiting for me there.

♧

I stepped through the door, already tugging at my tie, only to freeze when I heard her voice.

"Stop right there, Antonio!"

I sighed and turned to see my mother standing in the middle of the foyer, arms crossed, with Emilio and Alessandro flanking her like obedient soldiers. Behind them, Albert was holding a notebook, looking entirely too amused at my expense.

"What now?" I asked, my tone clipped as I tossed my coat onto the nearest chair.

"You know what now," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Measurements. For the wedding. Tomorrow. Or did you forget?"

"I didn't forget. I just don't care." I turned to leave, but Alessandro stepped in front of the door, blocking my way.

"You're not escaping this time," he said, grinning like a child about to witness chaos.

"Move," I said, my voice low.

"No can do, big brother," he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Mother's orders."

"Antonio," my mother interjected, her voice sugary sweet in the way that meant danger. "If you even think about stepping back outside, I will personally chain you to a chair. Now, sit down."

I looked at her, then at Emilio, who was busy inspecting his nails, clearly enjoying the show.

"Is this really necessary?" I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Yes," she said firmly. "You've been avoiding your responsibilities all week, and I refuse to let you ruin this wedding just because you want to pout about it."

"I'm not pouting."

"You're always pouting," Alessandro chimed in.

"Shut up," I snapped.

"Both of you, enough!" my mother barked, silencing us instantly. She turned to Albert. "Albert, be a dear and fetch the tailor. Let's get this over with before Antonio decides to throw another tantrum."

I glared at her but didn't argue. It wasn't worth the fight.

As Albert disappeared down the hall, Emilio smirked at me. "You know, you're kind of making this easy for Celine. She doesn't even have to try to hate you. You're doing all the work for her."

I shot him a look that could kill, but he just shrugged.

"Tomorrow," my mother said, stepping closer and gripping my face with her hands, "you will stand next to that girl, you will smile, and you will make this family proud. Or so help me, Antonio, I will end you."

I yanked my face away and muttered, "Can't wait."

Celine descended the stairs, her long braids swaying with each step, catching the light like polished ebony. Her robe—a deep burgundy—framed her figure elegantly, the color contrasting perfectly against her skin. Emilio and Alessandro were both leaning against the wall, and I could already sense the chaos brewing.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look stunning!" My mother was the first to speak, clapping her hands together as her eyes lit up. She crossed the room and pulled Celine into a warm embrace before holding her at arm's length to admire her. "I've been waiting all day to see you. My son is lucky, even if he's too stubborn to admit it."

Celine smiled softly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Mrs. Genovese"

"None of that. Call me Mama," she insisted, waving a hand dismissively before gesturing toward the tailor. "Let's get this started, yes? I want everything to be perfect."

Celine hesitated as she turned toward the tailor, who stood waiting with a tape measure in hand. Her shoulders tensed slightly when he cleared his throat.

"Miss, I'll need you to remove your robe for the measurements."

Celine froze, glancing between the tailor, my mother, and then the rest of us. "Is that really necessary?"

"Yes, Miss," the tailor replied, his tone polite but firm.

Emilio and Alessandro exchanged a look. I could already see Emilio gearing up to make a comment, and I didn't have the patience for this.

"Just take it off," I snapped, my voice low and sharp.

Celine's head whipped toward me, her eyes narrowing as if I'd dared her to defy me. She didn't move at first, her gaze locking with mine in a silent battle of wills. Slowly, deliberately, she reached for the tie of her robe, her fingers steady as she pulled it loose. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet to reveal sleek black lingerie that fit her perfectly.

The room went silent, save for my mother gasping softly.

"Oh, you look exquisite!" she said, clasping her hands over her heart. "Antonio, you better be worshiping the ground she walks on!"

I ignored her, my jaw tight as I forced myself to look away from Celine. I heard Emilio mutter a low whistle beside me, and I turned to glare at him.

"Keep your mouth shut, or I'll shut it for you," I warned, my voice barely above a growl.

"What? I'm just appreciating the view," Emilio replied, his grin infuriatingly smug. "If you don't want her—"

"You won't live to finish that sentence," I cut in, my tone like ice. Alessandro chuckled from the corner, clearly enjoying the show.

Celine raised a brow, clearly catching every word of our exchange. "Men," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Insufferable."

The tailor cleared his throat again, redirecting her attention as he stepped forward to take her measurements. She held her arms out obediently, but her posture remained tense, like she was ready to bolt at any moment.

Alessandro finally decided to join in. "You know, Antonio, you should smile more. People might actually believe you're excited to marry her."

I shot him a warning glare. "Say one more word, and I'll throw you out."

"Touchy, touchy," Alessandro said, smirking as he leaned back against the wall. "But I get it. If I had a bride like her, I'd be tense too."

Celine turned to glare at me. "This family is something else."

"Oh, sweetheart," my mother interjected, stepping forward with a warm smile. "You'll fit right in. Besides, you're marrying Antonio. That means you'll never be bored."

Celine muttered something under her breath, but I didn't miss the flash of defiance in her eyes. She wasn't backing down, not here, not with us. And damn it if I didn't find that infuriatingly admirable.

The tailor finished, stepping back with a slight bow. "All done, Miss. Thank you."

Celine snatched her robe from the floor and draped it over her shoulders, her chin held high as she tied it back into place. She turned toward the stairs but paused just long enough to glance at me.

"Tomorrow," she said, her tone flat, "this circus is all yours."

I watched her go, my mother sighing dreamily behind me. "Oh, I adore her. She's perfect for you."

"Of course you do," I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Emilio and Alessandro snickered, clearly pleased with themselves.

"Careful, Antonio," Alessandro said. "If you keep snapping at her like that, she might actually murder you in your sleep."

Surprised she hadn't already tried.

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y'all I'm so excited for their wedding!! what do y'all think? is the wedding too soon or too late? idkk y'all I be second guessing myself as if it isn't my book 😭 but yeah tysm for the comments and votes !!

please remember to drink water!!

- zio 🍸